Reflections
by Rogue28
Summary: In the years following Jon's accident in "Twilight," Trip makes a captain's log entry reflecting upon his relationship with T'Pol.


Title: Reflections Ships: Trip/T'Pol Time: In the years following Jon's accident in "Twilight" Disclaimer: I wish it was mine, but it ain't. I'm just playing where Paramount boldly goes. Summary: Trip makes a captain's log entry during the years after Jon's accident in "Twilight," reflecting upon T'Pol.  
  
Captain's Log: January 31st, 2162  
  
I never truly thought that T'Pol and I would ever get along. The moment she stepped on board Enterprise, I wanted to shove her out the airlock.  
  
But through the years, we started to get along, became friends. Maybe we were on the verge of something more.  
  
That was when Jon got sick, or hurt, or whatever you want to call it. And he did it savin' her life. So I suppose I have no right to complain. Those parasite things-well, you can only do what you can do.  
  
She was a good captain, although I'm not sure I ever told her that. I know I yelled at her about it, about how our mission had turned into one mistake after another since he'd been hurt. I shouldn't have done it, I know. It was hard enough on us, fightin' the Xindi, and tryin' to take care of Jon at the same time, and I didn't need to help the catastrophe along anymore.  
  
I don't know how she does it, day after day, and I figure it must be some of that Vulcan resolve. She gets up, makes breakfast, and waits for him to come staggering out of his room, more disoriented than the day before. I stop by whenever I get close enough to warrant shore leave. Malcolm's good about letting me have a few hours when we get into the orbit of the colony, and Hoshi goes down to visit with Jon. He never remembers anyway.  
  
Last time, we walked around the compound for a while, just enjoyin' each other's company. There are children wanderin' around now. Our legacy, maybe, if I can protect them, just like she protects Jon each day.  
  
I got a message from Phlox the other day. He thinks she's become 'quite attached' to the captain. No shit. Every time I go see her, she seems more and more distant from me, even as she seems less and less Vulcan.  
  
Once, I would have given my right arm to see her smile. Now I'd give both arms just to take that look out of her eyes, that look that she shoots me every time I come within two feet of her. The one always reminds me of what might have been, and tells me that she wonders that too. The one that tells me that next time her Pon'Farr comes around, I need to be a bit closer, so she doesn't have to depend on Jon to save her life, Jon, who won't remember, Jon, who won't love her because he can't.  
  
I tried to convince her to stay. More than once, and I've tried to convince her to come back, that we could use a more experienced commander. She didn't listen, though. Once she gets something in her head, though, she never does, and I know that. But I try anyway, and I think she'd be disappointed if I didn't try.  
  
I don't sleep well anymore. I don't suppose I have since she left the ship. Before that, when we quit spendin' so much time together, our 'duties' taking us away from something that should have been important for us.  
  
I wish I'd started something there. I wish I'd told her. I wish I wasn't such a coward now that I could tell her.  
  
Somehow, I think she knows anyway.  
  
What am I saying? I'm drunk and morose. Which is an entirely different thing from being just plain drunk, or just plain morose. Probably shouldn't admit that in the captain's log, but as regulations have gone to hell and I'm pretty much the commander of the entire damn Starfleet at the moment, I don't suppose it matters. I just wanted this down for posterity, so that if something does happen to me, T'Pol knows. So here goes.  
  
T'Pol. I love you. I have ever since I set sight on you, and it's taken me this long to finally admit it out loud. I know what you're thinkin'. Love isn't logical, but you have to admit, there's never been anything logical about me. I hate livin' without you. You are my everything.  
  
Somehow, I don't think that bangin' my head is going to help this any, but I'm trying it anyway. Why am I even trying to put this into words? She knows how I feel. She's felt it, the one and only time she and I were together. The one and only time where I saw her smile. The one and only time we were both complete.  
  
Damn.  
  
Why can't I just get off this damn ship, rush down there, yank open the door, lock Jon in his room, and kiss her senseless?  
  
Must be this archaic sense of duty my mom and Lizzie so valiantly rammed into my head.  
  
I used to dream about getting married. Hoshi told me once that T'Pol asked her for a recording of Pachebel's Canon. Somehow, I could see T'Pol walkin' down an aisle we'd cleared in the mess, all our friends around us. Jon standin' up front, a big grin on his face, Malcolm standin' at my side as my best man, without that ridiculous beard of his he's grown, Hoshi as bridesmaid, and Travis walkin' T'Pol down the aisle.  
  
It's not going to happen now, and I know that. It drives Phlox crazy when I send him messages like this. I think he's become a regular psychiatrist for most of us left here on the ship, sendin' messages back and forth the way we do. He keeps tellin' me that I need to learn to get on with my life.  
  
Nice of him to say so, he's still got a planet full of his people, and the rest of 'em aren't being hunted down by a bunch of happy murderers. He says I'm brooding.  
  
Well, I know I'm brooding right now, I'm drunk, and that's what you're supposed to do when you're drunk. And I've gotten mighty good at doin' it, too.  
  
So, here's to you, T'Pol, angel and beacon of light. I love you. I just hope you know that. 


End file.
